


The World Within

by lightningwaltz



Category: Hakuouki
Genre: Alcohol, Cunnilingus, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff, Friendship, Hijikata's Route, Male-Female Friendship, Mild Power Play, Post-Canon, Saito's barely disguised competence kink, Woman on Top
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-30
Updated: 2014-07-30
Packaged: 2018-02-11 03:09:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2051328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lightningwaltz/pseuds/lightningwaltz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chizuru and Hijikata receive a visitor from the past.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The World Within

**Author's Note:**

  * For [momijizukamori](https://archiveofourown.org/users/momijizukamori/gifts).



> Okay, I kind of took a lot of the things momijizukamori said they thought would be fun to see and I put them in a blender and this is the result? She wanted a happy take on the Hijikata ending, and somehow Chizuru maybe being pregnant in that route in one of the games ended up in here (though it's not really a main focus of this, I just thought it would be fun to play with.) She also asked for allusions to the actualfax history that inspired this game, and mostly I just decided to take and run with how Saito survived. Aaaand she mentioned liking toppy!Chizuru and the way that ended up in here is sort of self-explanatory. 
> 
> So yeah, I really hope this is anything like what you wanted. I was really happy to get this prompt because, I too mostly just want everyone in this canon to be happy.

Chizuru arrived home before Hijikata. That was typical for their schedules, and an empty, cozy home was a pleasure in and of itself. But, this afternoon, all she could think about was the innkeeper’s words of warning. 

_How can someone come looking for me now?_ On average, Chizuru had had poor experiences with those who sought her out. If it had been Sen, she would have been delighted, but the description had been clear; a young man was looking for Chizuru.

In a daze, Chizuru drifted to a cupboard. Her kodachi lay within, concealed under piles of clothing. A small bit of her past tucked away. It had first belonged to her mother, she recalled. The gold inlay glimmered, and if she stared hard enough she imagined she could conjure the woman’s face in its patterns. 

She placed her hand on her stomach. Perhaps Chizuru’s delayed menstrual cycle would come after all. Or, perhaps, it would not. Perhaps her body would begin to change, slowly, over time (Perhaps it already _was_ ). Eventually she would know, eventually she would have to plan. But, for now, her potential pregnancy was just that; potential. A hint of her future. Trying to grasp at it would be like holding sand in the palm of her hand. 

Because of this, Chizuru had been wondering more about her mother, in these days, than she ever had before. Kodo had spoken little of her. Once, his face very pale, he had said she was just like Chizuru. Her cuts and scrapes had also healed within seconds, and it had come to the attention of fearful people… Her father’s words had thinned out, and he allowed Chizuru to fill everything in with her own terrified brush strokes. It was not a revelation that inspired further inquiry.

Now, she realized that he had actually told her a version of the truth. Her occasional nightmare of a village on fire tasted too much of memory. But, still, he had only told her of the woman’s end. Nothing of her life, nothing of what she might have hoped for her own child.

Chizuru would have to make her own way through life, but that was nothing new. She’d gone without family for _years_. 

* 

Hijikata found Chizuru rooting around in her medicinal garden. She had just watered her plants, and the burning sunset illuminated each drop. He thought of rubies, until they rolled off the leaves and vanished into the dirt. The thought fled just as quickly, though later he would attempt to recapture it in a poem. 

“Welcome home,” Chizuru said, smiling up at him. She held out her hand, tracing the edges of his shadow as if it were a solid thing. A pensiveness air surrounded her like a second haori.

“Everything turn out okay?” he asked, mentally chewing on the phrase _welcome home_. He never got sick of it.

“Yes. It was pretty straightforward, as these things go,” Chizuru declared, soft but decisive. Her work was somewhat of a mystery to Hijikata, but he could relate to her tales of bloodshed and tedium, exhilaration and reversals of fortune. Whenever she was called away to attend on a birth, she’d straighten her spine and and charge ahead. 

Chizuru had always been happiest when there was something for her to do.

As for her garden, it conjured up his life from well before the Shinsengumi. The blossoms and stems seemed straight from his family’s farm, only in diminutive form. Since it could be messy work, she wore his oldest, shabbiest jacket and pants, tailored to fit her (she still seemed to swim in them.) She had dirt on her hands, sweat condensing on her temples, and her ponytail spilled over her shoulder. All at once, he quite badly needed to kiss her, so he crouched down and did just that. Her mouth opened beneath his, and she tasted like some kind of spice, even though he couldn’t name it. Something sweet. 

He sat down on the ground, pulling Chizuru onto his lap. Her legs rested perpendicular to his, and after a bit of giggling, she pressed her lips to his once more. But, after kissing for a while, she splayed her fingers across his chest. Gently, but firmly, she pushed him away.

“Wait, wait, _wait_ ,” she said. Though he liked the shiver in her voice, he disliked the nervous laughter threading through it. 

“You sure? That was going somewhere interesting.” 

“Yes.” She blushed, as she always did when he joked about sex. The effect was somewhat ruined by how her gaze traveled up and down his body. Mostly down. “If things got even more interesting, I might get distracted and forget.” 

“Thanks for the compliment.” He rubbed her ankles, and hugged her close with his free arm. She was as immovable as the columns of a shrine. “Just say whatever’s on your mind. I’m here.” 

“Today… Well.” Chizuru ducked her head, and Hijikata waited. And waited. Like Saito, she had the kind of reticence that mostly derived from good intentions. And, like Saito, there was no point to hurrying her. “Today I helped deliver the innkeeper’s baby. She told me she thinks there’s someone in town trying to find me. Or maybe he’s here to find the both of us. She says his name is Ichinohe Denpachi. Does that mean anything to you?" 

“The guy’s name is unfamiliar to me,” Hijikata said, at last. “Doesn’t mean I haven’t pissed off someone with that name because…” He barked a laugh. “I’ve pissed off a ton of people.” 

“It might also be another demon looking for a wife.” One of her hands made fist, and she stared at it like she hadn’t meant to do so. 

“Yeah, _that’s_ not gonna happen.” He had noted with indifference the potential threat to his life. The thought of someone curtailing Chizuru’s freedom… Well. For a second, blood pounded in his ears. “I’ll protect you.” He grabbed onto her wrist, and kissed her knuckles. First, her fingers unclenched, and then, second by second, her whole body thawed into his. He eased on down, lying on his back, taking her with him. She rested her head on his chest. Her garden encircled them, brown-green in the dwindling evening light. 

They chatted for a time about lighter subjects, until Chizuru said they’d better go inside to avoid bug bites. She had dinner with him, drew herself a bath, and changed into women’s clothes. When they prepared for bed, he saw in her the hollowed out liveliness of a soldier who had been awake for days. 

“I’ll try to protect us, too,” she said, as if they had never veered from their earlier conversation. “If this person is hostile, I’ll be prepared. Somehow. I will.” 

She clasped her hands in front of her, just like she had the day she’d offered to be Kondou’s shield. The day she’d nearly given Hijikata a heart attack. He cupped the back of her head, and whispered above her ear. 

“You can’t beat yourself up over things that haven’t happened. I know you’re smarter than that.” 

“I just can’t stand the thought that-”

“Nothing’s happened yet.” He tilted her head up. Flecks of gold that danced in her dark brown irises; reflections from their lamplight. “Right now we’re fine, and I’m serious about protecting you. I know it’s hard but don’t be afraid until we know the situation. That’s no way to live.” 

She opened her mouth, and, because, he recognized that particular look in her eyes, he cut her off again. 

“And don’t beat yourself up for worrying, either.” 

She scowled, he scowled back, and then she threw her head back and laughed. “So basically, you’d leave me very little to say,” she said, lips curved in aggravated fondness.

“Yeah, well,” He rubbed reassuring patterns on her back. “I’m biased when it comes to your happiness. Not sorry about that.” 

She looped her arms around shoulders. They held each other for a long time; wordless, intimate, _close_. 

“You got one thing wrong,” she said into his chest. 

“What’s that?” 

She swayed against him, hard, in a bizarre approximation of a shove. “You keep talking about protecting me, but I hope you mean you’ll protect _us_. I hope you include yourself in that promise.” 

“Of course?” He said at once, startled because she sounded like she wanted to bite him. And maybe he hoped she would.

“Good. Because I want to have you around.” She paused, thought about it, rose to her tiptoes. “I want to have you,” she repeated.

Chizuru tended to bring to mind every possible synonym for softness. Sometimes, though, she kissed him like the full-blooded demon that she was. A barrage of teeth, and tongue, and slender arms as intractable as a finely wrought blade. The more she grew into her confidence, the more Hijikata realized he’d had the fortune to fall in love with a force of nature. 

And, of course, he wanted her too. Wanted all of her, for as long as he could. Hijikata untied her obi, and then peeled the rest of her clothes from her body. She cast her eyes down and to the side, but her smile was confident. Then she held up her hand, beckoned him closer. His hands palmed at her breasts, covering them completely. His fingers circled her nipples, and she sighed against his mouth. He bent his knees, knelt on the floor, and kissed and licked down the column of her body. Though Chizuru didn’t say a word, she gasped and whimpered enough to let him know he was doing a damn good job. Then she laughed, confusing him for a second.

“Do you ever remember how-” 

“Tell me later.” 

He wrapped his arms around her thighs, pulled her off her feet, before depositing her on the bed. 

“Okay,” she murmured, as he parted her legs, scraped his teeth lightly against her inner thigh, felt her shiver against him. “I will.” 

He buried his head between her legs, drawing his tongue over her wet folds. Although Chizuru was quietly vocal all throughout sex, he’d discovered she wasn’t one for screaming or protracted moaning. He’d had to look for other reactions when she was especially pleased; the way would punch the futon, the way her whole body would go tight, tight, like the string on a bow before the arrow flew. 

Hijikata looked up at her. He thought he lived for this moment, just before Chizuru’s orgasm; her flushed skin, hooded eyes, the way her hands wracked at her body and his. She was one of the most reserved people he had ever met. But _he_ got to see her balanced on this precipice, all her carefully composed barriers slipping away. He slid two fingers into her with ease, curved them up, and sucked on her clitoris. She pulled at his hair, and soon came with a sharp cry, her inner walls contracting all around him. 

He pulled back, once he was certain he’d wrung every last bit of pleasure from her. While waiting for her to catch her breath, he placed his hands on her knees, tapping an indistinct rhythm. When her chest rose and fell slowly, Chizuru began stirring to life. She really had the warmest, kindest eyes he had ever seen. 

“That feel good?” he asked, sucking his fingers clean. Partly for the enjoyment of it, partly to be obnoxious. Chizuru throat worked, but she also nodded vigorously. 

“Yeah. It’s your turn, though.” She propped herself up on her elbows, tilting her head away when he tried to kiss her. “No, let me _see_ you first.” 

He rolled back onto his feet, tacking of his haori, and then his pants. Chizuru’s stare was almost a physical thing as it roamed over body. He smirked at the unspoken praise, but something in his stomach tightened. He was absurdly vulnerable and unspeakably safe all at once.

“So what were you so amused about earlier?” He asked, sprawling out next to her on the futon. His arm slid under her shoulder. Chizuru curled into him, her palms greedily sliding all over his chest. Eventually she pushed him onto his back, and the bed rattled beneath them.

“Hmm?” Her tongue circled around his navel, and one of her thumb slid back and forth over the curve beside his hipbones. So close, and so far from where he wanted to be touched.

“Right- oh come on- right before I went down on you.” 

“Oh I was thinking of that night in Shimabara.” She looked up at him, just as her fingers circled his erection. Her touch was light as silken cloth but not, he thought, from any sort of shyness. That was long gone. 

“What the hell?” he asked, meaning her non-sequitur, her infuriating gentleness. All of it. _Explain yourself, Chizuru._

“You knelt in front of me then, too.” Her smirk was downright lascivious. “That’s all.” 

“I was just looking at your sprained ankle.” She withdrew her hand, straddling him in a graceful slide. His breath strangled in his throat. “Can’t believe you.”

“I’m only saying it’s always been a very good memory for me” She gasped, finally, _finally_ sliding onto down. He watched his cock disappear into her, felt more and more wet warmth surrounding him. Listened to her quiet groan as he filled her completely.

“This is a better one.” 

Chizuru began to move, rocking against him, occasionally panting out his first name (for some reason, she only said it during sex.) Slow, deliberate, almost placid. His fingers dug into her hips, attempting to set a faster pace. She always succumbed to one particular angle, and if he could just maneuver her into it…

Quick as a lightning-strike, her hands covered his. She pried them away, finger by finger, until he was adrift once more. She shoved his arms back onto the bed.

“Chizuru,” he groaned, “weren’t you liking that?” 

“Oh, I was.” Up and down she went, constant and merciless. “But right now you’re going to keep your hands off of me. Keep them where I can see them.” 

“Chizuru,” he repeated. He was begging, and he knew it.

“I _told_ you,” she said, “now it’s _your_ to feel good. Keep your arms right there. I mean it.” 

“Damn it, damn it.” He was too thunderstruck for anything more sophisticated. Especially not when she sped up, moving so possessively, so beautifully. With the restrictions she’d placed on him, there was little Hijikata could do beyond snapping his hips a bit harder, trying to drive further into her. He kept his arms at his sides, even though they shook. He fell deeper and deeper into the moment, in thrall to the serenity he found in giving up control to her.

Chizuru might be the quiet sort in bed, but this time Hijikata came so hard it pulled a loud yell right out of him. The world went hazy, but he was conscious of her continued movements, the way she said she loved him over and over. The way she held onto his hands, at last, with such overwhelming tenderness. 

The world shivered back into focus, he saw that Chizuru was out cold and dreaming. He couldn’t think in ideas, or even words. This was a silent world of sensation, scent, and the burning coal in his chest. He watched her until the lamp’s candle went out. He could barely see her after that, but it didn’t matter. He knew Chizuru was there. 

*

Chizuru awoke late and alone (though she had a hazy, dream-like memory of Hijikata kissing her on the cheek before rolling out of bed.) She washed the blankets and hung them up to dry, where they wavered and snapped in the brisk wind. As she arrayed new sheets over their futon she actually hummed and sang, despite mentally chastising herself. The name Ichinohe Denpachi clanged in her head, the one discordant note in her morning. But she tried to honor her promise to live without fear. 

It was easy enough, with last night’s memories to distract her.

Then, she gathered up some newly dried medicinal herbs, and made her way to the midwife for daily training. Lately, she had been waiting for the woman to point at her and say ‘ah-hah! You’re pregnant, too!” But if the woman had noticed, she allowed Chizuru her privacy. 

Chizuru must have been giggling and smiling a bit too much, though, because the woman groused (not unkindly) about newlyweds and told Chizuru she could go home early. In comparison to yesterday’s chaos, the day was quiet and there was little that needed to be done. 

Though she had been given reprieve from work, she still found herself pining for the simple, methodical work of preparing, measuring, and creating. Chizuru was dolling out some matcha, when Hijikata returned. 

“Ah!” She jumped, he grinned. They both paused and stared. “Hi there…” 

“Hey.” 

Chizuru contrasted his current poised demeanor with the memory of Hijikata writhing beneath her, and pleading without shame. Her thighs clenched together, and she stared down at her hands.

“So, ah. I got kind of bossy last night, didn’t I? Sorry.” 

“Oh please. I liked it.” As Chizuru tried to recall if she’d ever heard him this cheerful, Hijikata put his arm around her waist. Pulled her against him. “ _You_ liked it.” 

Her feet tried to curl into the ground. “I did, didn’t I?” She sunk her fingers into his short hair, kissing him. “Go keep yourself busy,” she said, flustered, thinking she must be fluttering like a kite on the wind. “I’m making tea, and I like to finish what I start.” 

“Don’t I know it.” Hijikata took a step back, not appearing particularly perturbed. He walked outside, presumably to watch the sun set. He’d always been fond of it. 

And then he yelled her name, like a man possessed. 

She reached for the nearest knife. Hijikata hadn’t needed blood in months and months, but maybe their respite had ended. If there was an intruder, she had no illusions about being able to fight him off. But she would try, she would try.

At first, all she could see was her husband’s shoulders. He was still alive for now. She wanted to press her palms to his back and let his vitality, his warmth, sink into her skin. 

And then she saw the other man. Hijikata pulled him up from a kneeling position, his fingers white as they clenched into their visitors forearms. 

“Saito-san.” The knife fell from her hand, landed in the dirt, inches away from her toes. “We thought you were…” 

“Yes,” Hijikata said, to her, to Saito. “Heard you were dead, ‘Ichinohe Denpachi.’”

Their friend made no move to step away from Hijikata’s grip. If anything he swayed in toward it, his characteristic implacability set aside for the moment. Moisture clung to his eyelashes, and Chizuru realized he was crying a little. Then again, so was she.

“I heard the same about you. It would seem that both things were just battlefield r-” Saito wrenched his eyes away from Hijikata, and then seemed similarly stuck when he stared at Chizuru. 

“Yukimura-san,” he said at last, looking over Hijikata’s shoulder, pale and still. She had spoken before, he had probably recognized her voice, but it was as if he had seen her for the first time. For the second time in as many days, she remembered Shimabara again. 

“Yes, it’s me,” she said, walking forward, to stand side-by-side with her husband. Her eyes flicked to Hijikata’s profile. Although he was always a handsome man, happiness had a way of redoubling his beauty. Care and sadness would melt away, and she would see contentment in the set of his eyelids, relief in the way he carried his jaw. She held Saito in even greater esteem for inspiring this in her husband. Her fingers itched to grab both their wrists. To press their hands to her lips.

“You kept your promise, Saito-san,” she said, stunned. She remembered the report about his death. In those days, reports of loss had piled up like bodies in an unmarked grave.

“What do you mean?” Saito’s eyes darted between the two of them, as if he could never drink his fill of their image. 

Hijikata detached one hand from Saito, and placed his hand on Chizuru’s shoulder. She liked the feel of it, solid against her bones, his thumb touching some of the bare skin of her neck. 

“Don’t you remember? Before you left, Chizuru ordered you to come back alive. She said the same to me.” 

“You’d also ordered me not to die once, if I recall correctly.” Chizuru pointed out. To give her aimless energy some sort of outlet, she reached up and patted the back of Hijikata’s hand. “I also recall that I told Saito-san not to die, but that you were just too stubborn to die. It looks like both of you did exactly as I said.” 

Saito could not fail to notice the way Chizuru and Hijikata touched and addressed each other. 

“Pardon my forwardness,” he said. “But are the two of you- are you-”

“Married? Yes.” Hijikata sounded a bit bewildered when he confirmed it, but so, so happy. Chizuru stared down at her feet, unable to suppress her smile. She smiled at him, she smiled at Saito, she smiled for the baby that might or might not exist. She smiled for all of it, really. 

“I see,” Saito said, for the first time looking at neither Chizuru and Hijikata. He gazed at something deep within himself. “Yes, I had my suspicions that would happen.” 

“You…” Chizuru thought back and back to the days where the Shinsengumi had been dwindling due to death and desertion. When it had often been just the three of them. Of a surety she and Hijikata had grown closer in that time, but she didn’t think either of them had projected any sort of romantic inclinations towards one another. “You thought what?” 

Hijikata grumbled something similar under his breath (“how did you have enough time to do _matchmaking_ ”), but he sounded good-natured enough.

“Oh, I did not intend it that way.” Saito’s words were clipped and toneless, as usual, but they poured out of him all the same. “I was certain Yukimura was still alive. While searching for her, I had heard of a young woman who matched her description. I also heard she was married to someone who… who sounded like you, Vice-Commander. I believe my conclusions on the matter were logical.” 

Chizuru still thought there was more to it, but she decided not to pry. Instead, the two of them ushered Saito into their home in a tidal wave of nonstop chattering. Their guest was amenable to Hijikata’s assumed name, but then he had also been good with that sort of thing.

Chizuru stared at Saito the way she would at any of her patients. He had long swapped his western outfit for traditional Japanese clothes, though this hair remained short. There was a paleness to his face that worried her, and he hunched his shoulders a bit, as if protecting himself from further pain. When she stood up, in order to prepare some kind of drink, Hijikata held onto her arm, keeping her there for a few seconds. Laughing a bit, she pulled away, until her sleeve slipped through his fingers.

She opened the jar of plum tea, breathing in its acidic-sweet scent. She rarely prepared this one, but this seemed like the right occasion. 

*

Their conversation meandered from year to year, memory to memory. Saito was certain that he would have no complaints were he forced to relive this hour for the rest of his life. 

But his arm ached and itched, like some beast had been gnawing at it. Chizuru noted his pain, asked about it, and he was forced to tell her that he’d recently been shot in the arm with a silver bullet. Officially speaking, the war was over, but he knew by now that hostilities tended to die a slow, lingering death. In this long denouement, soldiers could still fall victim to skirmishes and accidents alike. It had happened to him.

After explaining this, Chizuru’s face tightened from concern.

“I’d like to examine it, please. If it hurts that much.” 

Saito could tell it was not a joke, but the request was puzzling enough that he looked to Hijikata for confirmation. 

“Chizuru’s a doctor now,” he said, folding his arms. Saito did not think he would intervene. 

“No, no.” She waved her arms, almost shoving away Saito’s mumbled praise. “I’m a midwife. But I know my way around wounds a bit better now.

For all that she demurred, her actual actions were bewilderingly assertive. She ushered him over to their house’s futon, and made him sit on it. The whole process was so quick that he scarcely had time to think about how Hijikata and Chizuru shared this same bed. And all that implied.

Saito was reluctant to bare his injury, even if it was only on his upper arm. When he heard a high-pitched sound, he realized Chizuru was biting her lip and sucking in air. 

“ _Damn_.” Saito hadn’t realized how much he missed Hijikata’s voice until it was gone from his life. Now here it was, reverberating deep in his eardrums. And he had missed this, he had missed this so much. 

“It was not so bad. The bullet went right through me,” he said at last. “Therefore we did not have to dig it out and risk further problems.” 

He could tell that Hijikata and Chizuru shared a knowing look over his shoulder, though he could not discern _why_. It was an accurate report, after all.

He glanced down at his injury, finding the usual sight of purple-yellow bruises circling the angry red gash. When it began to heal it often itched in a bone-deep sort of way, and the only way to avoid clawing at it was to ignore the wound entirely. He had sort of liked that, though. It was an echo of his sacrificed humanity.

“Hey, Chizuru you’ve gone all quiet back there. Should we be worried?” Hijikata asked.

“No, I don’t think so. I would like to clean this out though. Maybe re-stitch it.” At once her cool fingers prodded somewhere just below his wound, and Saito felt all his bones lock into place from astonishment. He could count on one hand the number of times they had ever touched one another, and now she did it casually. “I don’t think you’ve had anyone look at this in a very long time…”

Saito mumbled at the floor sounding to his own ears like he a child who had run from his chores. 

“This woman won’t let you get away from anything, Saito, so don’t even bother.” 

“If that’s the case,” Chizuru said, “can you bring my medical kit? _Now_ , please.” 

Saito watched, eyes wide, as Hijikata rushed to fulfill her command. And it _was_ a command.

“And some sake, too!” Chizuru called, and Hijikata growled something that sounded like an affirmative. 

“I might be intoxicated already,” Saito mumbled to himself, confused, elated.

“Er, what?” 

Saito said nothing, not even flinching as Chizuru undid his old, haphazard stitches. Hijikata returned with her requests, and handed some of the sake to Saito. He drank straight from the bottle, even though it was rude. Even though an amused Hijikata apologized and offered to get him a cup. The alcohol trickled down his throat, warming his stomach. He wanted to get drunk, and he wanted to do it fast. It had little to do with pain, and _everything_ to do with hearing Hijikata’s laugh, with the feeling of Chizuru’s competent hands at work… 

“There is no sign of an infection, right?”

“No,” Chizuru said, with the dispassionate voice of a physician. “You will be alright.” 

Chizuru’s needle flew, Saito drank, and Hijikata barraged him with questions. The ghosts of the Shinsengumi crouched on their shoulders, as they swapped stories of the deaths of the people they once knew. The short lives their friends had once lived. They laughed with relief at the very rare stories of survival. 

“I am so tired of guns,” Chizuru said with uncharacteristic fervency. She cut the thread, knotted it, and Saito realized that the story of Hijikata being shot in the back had been true. 

The Aizu had once pilfered a gun from a dead soldier, and they’d all taken turns in experimenting with it. The gun, made in distant France, had been comprised of interlocking, infinitesimal pieces. Despite the complexity of its engineering, its function was quite simple: pull the trigger, and all the disparate parts would act in concert to send a bullet flying into a soldier’s heart. 

Or so one could hope. 

“I had the opportunity to shoot a gun once. Just once. Mostly it was very loud.” He remembered one soldier explaining that he would need to pull the trigger very slowly. The rifle had leapt like a living thing in his arms, recoiling hard into his shoulder (it should have left a bruise, but being a fury meant being free from such concerns.). Incense-like smoke poured from its barrel, and for an instant he understood that a gun could mean to other people what the sword meant to him. 

Now, in Hijikata and Chizuru’s home, alcohol rushed through Saito’s body. It went on a shimmering path, from shoulders to fingers, from hips to toes, pooling in the center of his body. For Saito, speaking at length had always been like trying to run in chest-deep water. Not so while drunk. No so with his present company.

So he laughed a bit, and elaborated on his anecdote. “The Aizu soldier who informed me how to use a gun realized after the fact that I was left-handed. He was surprised and, I think, displeased.”

Hijikata scoffed. “Some things don’t change.”

“No, some things do not change.” He finished off his sake, his exhalation echoing in the empty jar. “Though that’s not _always_ bad.”

Hijikata nodded, at first about to speak, and then clearly deciding against it. Chizuru rose to her feet, in a rustling of yukata fabric, carrying the unnecessary objects away. The world dimmed and, though he continued to converse with Hijikata (and Chizuru once she returned) he would have been hard-pressed to remember any of the topics. Their words cocooned him, like a pleasant breeze in the spring. And he was tired, so remorselessly tired. He had done little that day; really, his hardest task had been the walk up the hill, to the small home he believed belonged to Chizuru. And maybe Hijikata. His hope had been like a sword stabbing at his neck, draining him of his life’s blood. Now, at last, he could lay down his weary head.

_It is like being home again_ , Saito thought, his last substantial thought of the evening. At some point, someone had remembered to light the lantern in the room, and gold and red waves danced across their skin. His friend’s chatter surrounded him, cushioned him.

And so his heavy eyelids fell shut. 

It felt like mere minutes had passed when he opened them again, but he heard birds calling to one another outside. Dawn was approaching. Hijikata and Chizuru lay on either side of him and their conjoined hands rested on Saito’s hip. Where his swords would lie. Everyone was clad in their clothes from the previous day. Saito could probably wriggle out from under their arms if he so desired. But he didn’t. When sunlight curved into their room, he watched it light up the fine strands of hair in Hijikata’s bangs. He listened as Chizuru mumbled in her sleep. 

He could spend eternity here, as well. 

*

The weeks slid on and on, like paint rolling over parchment. They set up a makeshift bed for Saito, and, often, their guest would insist on cooking dinner. Hijikata became accustomed to the experience of his wife and former comrade kneeling together by the table, sipping tea, chatting with ease. The two of them looked like they had been created in the same breath by the exact same god.

Every so often the three of them would venture out; in pairs, or as a group. It was how Hijikata and Saito wound up wandering by the shoreline one day. 

Up close, the sea was almost colorless, even when the sky was free of clouds. Transparent and glassy, the tide often deposited dark green seaweed on the sand. In recent years, Hijikata had not been fond of the ocean; they’d buried Yamazaki in it, they’d run from defeat on it, it had been the barrier between him and Chizuru for many months.

But then, he was forced to admit to himself, the sea had brought Chizuru back. And Saito had also landed on the docks of Hakodate in order to find them. The sea dealt death and life in equal measure. Maybe, someday, when it was a bit safer he would venture out again. He’d find Kondou’s daughter, and tell her everything she wanted to know about her father.

“How long do you think Chizuru will be away?” Saito asked. The three of them had been planning to take this walk together, but then the midwife had come to the house, telling Chizuru that so-and-so was in labor early. Hijikata’s wife had nodded in the way she did when someone was in need and didn’t spare them a backward glance as she left. Hijikata was accustomed to it, but Saito watched such things like his world had flipped upside down. And in some ways it had. 

“Whenever this happens she’s gone for the better part of a day. Sometimes more depending.” Depending on _what_ Hijikata wasn’t sure, but he knew that she was apprenticed to a very talented midwife. The days when Chizuru came home white as a ghost and mourning either the mother or the baby… well, those were rare. 

“She has found her place in the world,” Saito said. His sort of formality would have seemed horribly pretentious on anyone else. In Saito, it seemed as natural as blinking or breathing. “That is good to see.” 

“Yeah. I’m good at cutting people up, and she’s good at putting them back together. We make a good pair.” He thought of her now, rushing around, helping bring a new life to the world. “Actually, I’ve had that thought, too. Almost in those exact words. It’s like talking to myself.” 

It was like he’d lavished the most extraordinary praise on Saito. The man’s smile rarely surfaced, but it was always wonderful when it did. 

And then it vanished, like a tide carrying a way the prints in the sand.

“I cannot stay,” Saito confessed. A wave rushed up, washing over their toes and sandals, but Hijikata barely felt it. Anyone else might have heard indifference, but there was a world of anguish beneath. “I suppose that’s good. I did not want to infringe but… but it still seems inconsiderate to depart so quickly-” 

He paused to catch his breath, and Hijikata pounced on this opening.

“Saito, calm down.” Hijikata wondered why he was so drawn to perennial worrywarts. Not that he had any room to talk. “I didn’t expect you to stay. The Shinsengumi is over.” Even now, it hurt to say. Maybe this was how most people lived; they hurt, they healed, they got back up. He hoped he had time to figure this out for himself. He hoped they both did. “I’m not your commander anymore. It would be really selfish of me to expect you to stick around.” 

The sun limned the edged of Saito jacket. He did not fidget or slump. But Hijikata had his suspicions that he would if he could.

“Look, it would be great to have you around forever. I know Chizuru feels the same. But you still have things to do, right? Neither of us are so egotistical that we’d keep you from them, just so you can keep entertaining us.” 

“I am glad to hear you enjoy my company.” The wind slid some hair over Saito’s eyes, but he made no move to brush them away. “And you’re right. The Aizu are relocating, and they need my assistance.”

“Well, there you go. See?” Saito’s loyalty had made him the natural choice for prolonged spying missions and deployment to distant battlefields. But one could not travel that far without undergoing some kind of alteration. Saito’s devotion had never diminished, but the nature of work meant that he had set up roots in distant places, distant people. It was good, it was healthy. Maybe Saito could flourish in a shifting world after all. 

_Live for a long time, make dumb mistakes, grow and change. If you can do that, then I’ll have done right by you after all._

“Look, you’ll always be welcome to visit us,” Hijikata added. “Or write to us or… whatever. You’ve got a place here, no matter what happens with you out there.” 

There was something raw behind Saito’s eyes; the deep reservoir of feeling he almost never unleashed. “The same goes for you. I was… distraught when I heard that you had died. Knowing that you- both of you- are alive and well is quite enough for me.” 

While engaged in combat, they learned to work in tandem without speaking. They returned to this old pattern now, both resuming their fast-paced walk. Their sandals left deep prints in the sand. 

*

Several days later found Chizuru chewing on sprigs of mint until all they erased all the sourness in her mouth. It was as though icicles sprung up from everywhere it touched, like all of winter was between her teeth. This was in contrast with her feet, which lay just outside of the tree’s shade. She wondered what sort of tan she would see there tomorrow. She could pull them towards her, but this precise position had alleviated her morning sickness and she didn’t want to disturb the balance. The longer she lay in perfectly stillness, the more distant her symptoms became. A breeze rattled through her herb garden, carrying all of its flavors to her; salty, bitter, sweet. Soon, she would have to resume her duties and pluck the grown ones. Separate them, dry them, write down their properties in her journal. Soon, soon, soon. But, for now, she enjoyed the coolness of the earth against her back, and the way the grass brushed her cheeks like eyelashes. 

Even in the shade, the world behind her eyelids was a stinging orange color. Saito walked on such light feet, that she thought she’d open her eyes and see a deer. 

“May I join you?” He asked, at last. 

Chizuru sat up, even though she had no desire to do so. There was no roiling in her belly, no dizziness in her skull. The sun was up ahead, and morning had slipped away. In a few days, Saito would slip away too. Back to the Aizu. She would enjoy his company as long as she could.

“Of course.”

Saito had made no mention of conversation, and at first it appeared he had meant his request literally. He sat in silence, seeming to need nothing but her presence. Offering nothing but the same in return. Saito always took measured, slow breaths. The inhalation shorter than the exhalation. She counted the seconds for each, trying to discern a precise measurement. 

The world was green, and brown, and the sky was so blue it was nearly white. After a couple weeks of careful monitoring, pink undertones had begun returning to Saito’s skin. Below his jacket, torn flesh was knitting back together. She had become skilled at caring for furies. 

“You’re very ill aren’t you?” he asked. 

“No,” she lied, inexplicably feeling the old terror she had felt during his first week with the Shinsengumi. It broke to the surface, dissipated, and was gone. “I’m not sick.” 

Saito tilted his head, an infinitesimal amount. And why not? Chizuru was usually discreet about her spells of nausea, but yesterday she’d had to run away from him to vomit. He’d helped coax the truth out of better liars than her. 

So she amended; “well, obviously I’ve not been feeling well, but it’s not anything to worry about.” 

“If you weren’t concerned about it,” Saito said, “why are you hiding it from H- from your husband.” 

Chizuru pressed her palm into the ground, and a few pebbles pressed back. That was preferable to what had been her first instinct; placing her hand to her stomach. 

“What do you mean?”

Meeting Saito’s stare full on was like trying to see the bottom of a well. At night. “You only give in to your symptoms in the morning,” he said. “When he is not around. Which shows an admirable kind of self-restraint, but don’t you think you would be happier if you confided in him?” 

“That’s all a coincidence.” Though it had worked in her favor. All at once she was tired of concealing the truth. “It is something that will pass because… because this usually only happens to pregnant women in the first few months.” 

There. Given voice, her nervousness at the concept began to fray at the seams. She watched as Saito processed the information. 

“You… are with child?” 

Fascinated, Chizuru noted the unfettered joy in Saito’s eyes. 

_Saito is smiling like he had something to do with it._ She imagined voicing the thought out loud. It was not something she intended to do, but she thought had a pretty good idea of how flustered Saito would look if she did. Indeed, the mental image was so strong, that laughter bubbled up within her, and somehow this shook other truths from Chizuru.

“Yes, and I’m happy about it.” She paused, her lungs stinging pleasantly from prolonged laughter. “I’m happy,” she repeated, taking her time. Tasting the words, tasting the idea. 

“You appear surprised.” If Saito was taken aback by her outburst, his countenance did not show it. “Although, I think that would be understandable. It is not pleasant to have one’s body change, nor is it pleasant to be so frequently ill.” 

This was not an empty pleasantry. As a Fury, Saito was in a position to understand the burden of sudden illness. He had been reluctant to speak of it, too. For a moment, Chizuru looked up into the sky in order to avoid looking at Saito. She immediately met the full onslaught of the sun’s rays. When she closed her eyes, reddish spots danced across her vision. 

“That part isn’t so bad.” A fly darted past her head, the flurry of its wings whining in her ear. “It’ll pass, like I said.” 

Needing to prove her point, she stood up without wobbling even a little bit. 

“Are you going to work in your garden?” Saito asked. 

“Yes.” After all, daily tasks must always be completed, no matter how many monumental changes were on the horizon.

“May I assist you?” 

Chizuru looked down at Saito. He was sitting in seiza, as was his custom, and she noticed for the first time that he had been growing his hair out. 

“Of course…” She trailed off. His alias was clunky and strange on her tongue, and lately calling him by his family name felt distant even if it was habit. 

She instructed him on weeding, which he did with his usual diligence and concentration. They didn’t speak again. Not until they graduated to plucking some of the fully flowered herbs. When Saito deposited his collection in her basket, his fingers brushed hers. 

“May I be forward about your situation?” 

“Please,” she said, unconsciously reaching out and grabbing briefly onto his hands. He squeezed back firmly, before retracting as though she had burned him. “I think I have been needing someone to talk to.”

“Then I have to say that Vice-Commander will also be happy when you tell him. I know I am being presumptuous, but I believe my judgment is sound.”

The weight on her heart was almost tangible.When Chizuru exhaled, she thought she could almost _feel_ her breath rattling it around. Saito’s words caused it to crumble, ever so slightly.

“You think so?” She said, the edges of her eyes stinging a bit. “The past few years have been so hard on him.” She didn’t need to elaborate on how. Saito would know. “We’ve only recently achieved peace and quiet. And I help out with the midwife, you know. I know full well that it’s not easy to have a newborn in the house.” 

“Vice-Commander would not… That is…” Saito coughed, red tingeing his cheeks. “You are not the sole responsible party for your pregnancy, and Hijikata-san would keep that in mind.” 

“Saito-san…” Her face burned, though probably not as much as Saito’s. She tried to hide her embarrassed smile behind her sleeve.

“I also believe he will not see this as a burden,” Saito said. Turning from her to carry the basket of herbs she had gathered. “Over the years, I have seen that when Hijikata-san has loyalty towards someone it is unassailable. I have reason to believe he has that degree of loyalty towards you. I think that same loyalty would naturally extend to your child.” 

“You’re right.” She began the walk back to her home, stopping to pluck another handful of mint. “I really think you’re right.” 

* 

Saito left the day after a great storm pummeled their town. In the morning, steam rose up from the ground. Though they all smiled and joked (even Saito), a sense of inevitable melancholy drifted through the air, as thick as the fog outside. 

And their goodbyes were numerous. First Chizuru had chatted and waved to him for a while on the doorstep before she would consent to let him go. Very quietly, he had stated his hope that he could visit again within the year “to see how things had changed.” 

Hijikata walked him down their pathway, their feet nearly slipping on the wet stones, before bidding Saito farewell. 

He was halfway through town, when he heard the sound of running. Hijikata and Chizuru had both raced after him, and they bid him one last goodbye. His (former) commander wished him well. Chizuru cried and smiled at him. The hem of her kimono was soaked through with rainwater. He would carry this final image of them, out over the ocean, a relic of the past, a talisman for his future.

*

The inside of Chizuru’s house was scarcely warmer than the outside. Teeth chattering together, she peeled off her soaked clothes as soon as she stepped over the threshold. Hijikata’s sighs were profound, though his eyes smiled. She grabbed his hand, and pulled him into the bedroom. She helped pull of his own clothes, sliding her hand over his naked hips. 

Other than that first night when they’d all, somehow, passed out in the same futon, Saito had spent most nights sleeping in the other room. Hijikata and Chizuru had become experts in muffling their voices, and keeping their futon from squeaking. They had kept their lamps out, to avoid projecting telltale silhouettes. Though that challenge had lent a strangely potent charge to lovemaking, she had discovered just how much she liked being able to see and hear her effect on Hijikata. But it was bittersweet, too. For a moment, she wanted the pleasures of the flesh to erase all her profound grief and joy. Hijikata was of a similar mind, judging by how hard her held onto her when they tumbled into bed.

She hitched her leg over his thigh, her heel pressing against his hard muscles. Her action drew him in further, deeper, hitting just the right angle. He grumbled his approval, pressing an incongruously chaste kiss to her forehead, before speeding up his tempo. 

“I like this position,” she said, voice thick, as though she’d been drinking. She raked her nails down his back, ever so slightly. His skin was soft there- unmarred by the scars that should have been there- and so warm to the touch.

“I think you like _every_ position,” he said, after a moment, as though he’d taken a while to realize she had been speaking. His hand moved from her hip to her breast, his thumb circling her nipple. 

“Yes, of course. It’s a position so I like it.” It was nonsense, and she knew it. Gasps threaded their way through her breathless laughter, but it was full-body laughter all the same. And once started, it was surprisingly difficult to stop. 

“Okay, that…” Hijikata stilled his motions. He stared down at her, his tongue unconsciously licking at his lips. “You’ve no idea how interesting that feels when I’m _inside you_.” 

“Bad?” She choked out, arching against him. _Get back to it_ . 

“Not at all,” he said, while she kissed him on the throat. 

Chizuru’s mirth slowly mellowed out into sighs and moans. Hijikata murmured endearments mixed with profanity as she came, and he climaxed soon after her. 

For a while she drifted out of a shallow kind of sleep. His fingers absently combed through her hair, and she was pleasantly sore from sex and laughter. It was time for her to be honest.

“I’m pregnant,” she said. It was a little easier to say this time, a little more real.

Hijikata’s went very still, before his hands resumed their movements. 

“You can tell minutes after the fact, huh?” 

The joke nearly set her off on another giggling session. She raised her eyes to meet his. 

“Are you sure?” He asked, serious now, his voice shockingly gentle. He held her face in his hands, his thumbs stroking her temples. “Really? We’re having a kid? That would be so great.”

“Yes. I’ve held off on telling you just so I could be certain And I was also nervous about… admitting our lives would have to change,” staring at his delighted face, she wished she’d told him much sooner. Oh well. Lesson learned.

“We’ve led an interesting few years, Chizuru. And this is a _good_ change.” 

“You think so?” 

“Yes. Definitely, yes.” He kissed her over and over, whispering his affirmations against her lips. And for a while, she thought they make love again. But then he pulled back, scrutinizing her. “Didn’t think I could even get you pregnant since I’m a fury. Sorry.”

“’Sorry?” She sat up, absently pulling a blanket to her chest. 

“No no no. Not like that” He rubbed her leg in what was meant to be an appeasing gesture, but she closed her eyes, recalling how hard he’d clutched onto it earlier. “I just… You’re the one who has to be pregnant. It was fun for me to get you that way, but now you’re going to have to do all the hard work here.” 

“I’ll be fine. I know you’ll help.” She sprawled out over him, liking the feeling of chest against her breasts. “But, I mean… If you want to make it up to me…”

*

Later, they pulled on their clothes, and sat outside. Drinking tea, talking a little, simply existing together. The air was clear once more, and they could see for miles. Somewhere out there, Saito traveled on, returning to his new life. 

The town below was ordinary, average one, quite unassuming by the light of day. However, Chizuru knew that nightfall changed things, made everything a bit more extraordinary. Lanterns from each household would shimmer over the rolling hill, mirroring the glimmer of moonlight on the sea. 

For a moment, Chizuru could see both world; the ordinary afternoon day, and all the beauty concealed within. Waiting to come to life.


End file.
